One More Secret
by Kasai Ame
Summary: It's just one more secret in a sea of secrets and lies, but it's all that Will Herondale has to keep him sane. Once in a while, for a few short hours, he can find a little peace and happiness. Rated T, oneshot, some sexuality.


**A/N:** I've been wanting to write a story for 'Clockwork Angel' since I read it back in September. I just had trouble with the beginning and gave up on it... Doesn't help that I have a number of other stories that need updating. Anyways, hope you enjoy.

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There were fine ladies of the night calling out to him on either side of the road. Some even knew his name, which brought a twitch of a smile to his thin lips. Most were warlocks and vampire mistresses who were cast out by their clans or simply penniless; the only humans who winked his way were humans blessed with the Sight. All were undoubtedly beautiful.

But Will Herondale didn't blink twice at a single one. His feet kept a steady beat on the roughly paved London road, walking farther and farther away from the true heart of the city. The handsome angel walked towards dark alleys where only the bravest tread with the most wicked of desires. Moonlight flickered through fog and hazy clouds, barely lighting his way on the cool winter's night.

A good fifteen minutes walk from the fish stalls it stood, that tall, dark house hidden behind a wall of mist and magic. To the human eye it looked a pile of crushed stones on a empty lot; to his Nephilim eyes it was a sturdy house aged by time and blackened by the wicked things that went on inside. To him, it looked like a sanctuary.

"Good to see you, Master Will," an old woman's voice greeted him as he pushed open the thick, wooden doors. Snow and freezing air poured in behind him, forcing him to put his back against the doors to shut them. The Madame gave a polite courtesy, her shrewd and inhuman eyes looking over his ragged appearance. Most of her body appeared to be that of an aging grandmother, but the entire skin of her neck looked as scaly and patched as a dragon's. The sign of a warlock.

"Is she here?"

"Yes, Master Will. I see you didn't waste any time getting here. You look as if you came straight from raiding some poor evildoers."

He gave her a radiant smile, the first glint of joy to emit from him for weeks. There were smudges of dirt and cinders across his cheeks and forehead, and his raven black hair looked a little matted and untamed. Will's dark clothes masked most of their wear, though he still smelled of burning wood and sweat.

"I would have stopped at home and cleaned up but, wouldn't you know it, I was kicked out. Silly domestic problems." His rune-covered hand waved the problem aside, and the Madame bowed and smiled in agreement and total understanding.

"You're still handsome as you ever were, young master. When you're ready, she's waiting for you in suite 219. All is prepared as requested."

Looking almost giddy, Will handed the warlock a small sack of coins. She weighed the cloth bag in her hand for a second before smiling just as brightly as he.

"And our agreement still stands?" the Madame ventured.

"Naturally. Neither the Enclave nor I have any interest in investigating your…"business dealings". For now, at least."

The inside of the mansion-esque bordello was decorated in early gothic. Not a single spark of color decorated the dreary wallpaper, Persian carpets, or landscape portraits on the wall. A handful of candelabras lit the way down the hall and towards the dilapidated staircaise, casting even greater shadows in the dark house. The inside, and outside, wasn't meant to look like an inviting place to be- not even to Downworlders. Those of particular and unusual tastes came to this place, and by invitation only. This was a house of secrets and strangeness that Charlotte and the Institute would look down upon, and perhaps if they knew some of the things that went on behind the heavy closed doors here, they would even mount a raid and end its business.

The old wood of the stairs creaked heavily beneath his feet, as if threatening to cave. Will thrust his hands into the deep pockets of his heavy overcoat, the collar turned up and nearly hiding the sheer beauty of his face. For the first time in a long time, his shoulders weren't slumped from heavy burdens and there was a general air of peace about his movements. No lies, no silly games, no having to pretend he was unaffected by the storm that raged at the Institute. Here, in this house of shame, Will could finally find an ounce of joy.

A stunning mundane, blessed with Sight, walked past him in the upstairs hallway, ignoring him. The redheaded woman wore spiked high heels, a ruffled skirt hardly touching her mid-thigh, and a corset of bone. She pushed one of the doors in the hall open and stepped inside; dim light and the noise of moaning crept through the open air. The doors were so tight and thick that no noise and no light ever passed through them, keeping all that went on inside safe and forgotten. For a split second, Will caught a glimpse of a vampire lady in the center of the room with her hands and feet tied with ropes, suspending her off the floor. There were two ever so slight puncture marks on her neck, made from a tool of some kind, and bloody prints of lips all down her body. The door shut, and then all was quiet.

Door 219 was different from the other plain, unmarked doors. It was a set of double doors with plenty of scratches and missing paint, and the numbers '219' were hastily written with charcoal on the wood. No fancy plate, no mat at the doorstep. And it was certainly bigger than the rest; it took up the space of three regular rooms. Without knocking, the little boy angel entered the room.

Thick white candles sat bare on the large oak bookcases covering the walls and the large desk set against the west wall. Their wax bloomed and dried like a cascading waterfall frozen in time, slowly taking over the furniture and trying to reach the floor. The lighting was warmer here- a different atmosphere from the uninviting, dreary hallway he'd just entered from. The colors of the carpets, the furniture, and even the coverlets of the four poster bed set in the center of the room were warm colors of light browns, dark reds, and burnt oranges.

"I'm back," he called out, as if he didn't see the slight figure sitting at the desk. Will slipped off his coat and hung it on the coat rack by the door, revealing the thin cotton shirt underneath that clung to his body like a second skin. There wasn't an inch of him that wasn't touched with muscle, all sunkissed from spending the summer in Idris and away from the Institute. Away from _her_.

"Oh, Will." A sleepy voice stirred, soft and feminine. The girl at the desk stretched and yawned, as if she'd fallen asleep there. She hadn't really, of course, but she was paid well to put on a show. "How did it go? I'm sorry I couldn't be there to help," she pouted slightly. In the gentle candlelight, with shadows and warm tones covering her face, the likeness was unreal. And her voice… As long as she spoke softly enough, Will's mind couldn't tell it apart from the real thing.

"Just a few renegade warlocks," he shrugged, boasting with great confidence. "We had to burn down their laboratory just to smoke 'em out. Just a ring of Downworlder drug dealers, selling to mundanes."

"You make it sound like it was no big deal." The girl ignored his presence as he moved towards her, his hands gripping the back of her chair. He leaned forward and pressed against her back, trying to read the open pages of the book before her.

"_Tale of Two Cities_? Haven't you read that enough?"

"Never. When you love something, I don't think you _can_ get enough of it." Her voice brimmed with amusement.

"It wasn't."

"Sorry?" she asked, tucking a strand of thick brown hair behind her ear. A few pieces had escaped the casual braid that fell all the way to the center of her back.

"A big deal."

"Then why do you look like you've been thrashed around by the bartender at the Devil Tavern? If it was so easy, you wouldn't look like someone set you on fire." She looked up at him with an earnest expression on her angular face, as if trying to coax him into admitting she was right for once. Even the girl's eyes were the right color- a dark grey, framed by dark eyelashes and well groomed brows. Will often wondered if it was natural, or a potion of some kind. He'd heard of color-changing brews that wealthy mundanes and Downworlders often played with.

His fingers dropped from the chair back to her neck, smudging her skin with the remnants of ash. Will felt goosebumps rise to meet his fingertips, and the girl took in a breath of surprise. She clasped her hands to her chest, touching the beautiful rose silk of her dress. One of his hands slid into her hair; the other gently settled around her neck, as if he would strangle her. He could feel her heartbeat quicken and her throat quiver as her breath increased its tempo.

"Will…" she whispered. The hand in her hair pulled gently, tilting her face upwards, and his thin lips brushed against hers. For a moment she sat still, as if frightened, but then her lips moved against his with surprising force. His dark blue eyes, the shade of the night's sky in Hell, looked at her with absolute love and desire. Will's thick lashes brushed against her cheek as he disengaged his lips and used his hands to haul her up from her chair. Her body was more than willing to follow his lead.

"Tess," he whispered back. They moved towards the bed, and Will pushed her gently down into the sheets. The girl pressed her hands against her heaving breasts, as if to still the wild feelings inside it, only able to look at the angel before her with surprise…and hunger. His strong legs straddled her body, holding her down, as if she'd try to run away. The fake Tessa sucked in a tight breath as he slipped his shirt over his head, his body tensed and lithe. She could see then the dark runes on his body that covered him like some exotic tattoo, making the dark boy look even more wild and dangerous.

He pressed his body against hers even deeper into the bed, tongue feverishly delving into her lips. It'd been too long since he last played this sick little game, and it had made him more hungry than ever. None of the other prostitutes in London could sate his need like her; when he'd first stumbled across the abandoned-looking bordello amidst an investigation, he'd only looked at it with curiosity. But the Madame had promised that if he left her 'minor' misdemeanors alone, she could give him his wildest dreams. And one drunken night after a terrible, terrible fight with Tessa and Jem, he'd taken her up on her offer.

It was the sweetest dream, one that only cost a few coin. While he poisoned and burned the heart out of the real Tessa, desperate to keep the sweet girl away from him and his unholy past, he could touch this one and give to her all the love he longed to give her. While Jem slowly moved in on the real one, taking Tessa to all the places she loved to go, Will could put aside his jealous madness for a few short hours and pretend it wasn't true.

His fingers dug at the laces on the back of her dress, undoing the tight strings until they fell slack. Suddenly the silk rose dress was sliding off, slipping unnoticed to pool on the floor. The girl could hardly catch her breath, shaking with nervousness and unbridled desire of a virgin. They'd done this half a dozen times now, maybe more, but every time was the first time. The dream to be Tessa's first and only lover was something he could relive as many times as he wanted. It was always more than sex here… It was making love in the grandest of ways.

Will's strong arms lifted her legs and settled them around his waist, feeling the smooth skin like a cat kneeding a soft blanket. She writhed and made the softest, sweetest noises, kissing his neck and the tight skin of his muscular chest.

"I'm sorry for what I said earlier," he breathed. "In fact, I'm sorry for what I've said for the past few weeks. I haven't gotten to apologize to you in a while. You should know I don't mean a word of it. You're beautiful and unique, and full of life and promise. You're better than any mundane, Downworlder, or Nephilim, I don't care how much you hate being a warlock."

And the fake Tessa, the perfect actress for the job, made a noise of acknowledgement. She never answered him directly, leaving him free to feel unforgiven and sometimes vindicated.

"You shouldn't hide from me anymore. I hate how you cower in the hallways, and how you skip meals just to avoid me. I haven't seen your eyes in days because you can't stand to look at me any more." The words almost choked him, and the girl wrapped her hands around his chest and hugged him closely in comfort.

"You're a fool to believe any word I say, Tess. I always knew you were naïve, but if you can't see how much it hurts me to hurt you, you're more naïve than I ever imagined."

The candles burned down for a while, dimming the library-esque room to just a few shades brighter than darkness. Will's pace was slow as he moved his hips against hers, mesmerized by the sounds of her contentment and heartbeat so close to his. Finally her fingers dug into his back, her eyes fluttering shut, and she clung to him almost fearfully as pleasure overtook her body. Her mouth whimpered his name, and his hands stroked her back reassuringly as her shivering and shuddering dissipated.

The angel, all gleaming with sweat like an oiled statue, pulled the covers over her warm body and watched as she drifted into sleep. She was curled against his chest, and he cradled her against him like a precious treasure. Whether she was really asleep or not, it didn't matter. Everything that went on in suite 219 was a well-rehearsed play, and for a brief while he could believe in it.

"Don't go with him to Shanghai," he whispered. "I see the way you look at him, and it isn't they way you ever looked at me. I know you don't love him, Tessa. You need to stay with me at the Institute or I'll swear, you'll break my heart so badly that it'll never repair. I don't think I'd live through it if you ever gave up on me."

His fingers slipped through her long hair, playing with the soft, thick strands that splayed across her back and shoulders. This Tessa's hair smelled like lavender and it was intoxicating. Will moved forward and kissed her forehead with great force, as if it would be the last kiss he would ever give her.

The pretty girl wrapped in covers was still sleeping as he slipped out of bed and threw his clothes back on. If she was truly awake, she never gave any signs of it until he left the room. A true professional, and worth ever penny he ever spent on her. The Madame smiled and bowed as Master Will shoved his hands into his pockets and shuffled out into the bitter cold of London's streets.

Charlotte and Henry would be asleep by the time he got back. The new cook was sweet on him and would undoubtedly have some small snack waiting on a plate for him in his room; a cold tart, or sandwich perhaps. Jem would be awake, though hidden away in his room, unsure how of to handle his best friend's darkening attitude. Though he rarely reprimanded Will, the grey-haired angel couldn't condone the way he treated Tessa, so more than ever there remained silence between him. If Tess were awake…he'd never know it. Hiding from Will had become a skill of hers as of late.

And he'd come home and made as loud and grand an entrance as possible, just to see who he could wake up so late in the night. He'd pretend to be drunk and ornery as hell, at least until Jem would appear and usher him to his room with a look of disappointment on his face. That way, none of them would ever want to know where he'd really been up to. It was his little secret, just one more secret in a sea of secrets that threatened to drown him.

But for a few blessed hours, only fifteen minutes from the fish stalls, it was all okay.


End file.
